


Give and Take

by Spot_On60



Category: The A-Team (2010), The A-Team - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 08:36:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11779413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spot_On60/pseuds/Spot_On60
Summary: Hannibal goes ballistic when he hears his Lieutenant described as a whore.





	Give and Take

It's not like this is anything new. Not like things along the same line haven't been spoken, often as a murmur, before. Passed from ear to ear, tent to tent, unit to unit. Hell, it's not like things like this don't pass from bases on American soil to bases in distant lands.

After all, FOBs are known for their rumor mills. There's a certain homeyness in the passing of tales from one person to the next. Though typically not pretty, they brought a certain normalcy to foreign terrain. Unquestioningly not the best of imports, but familiar to people far from home all the same.

Rumors could be of just about anything or anyone. Take the story of General Morrison in Laos. Word was as a young artilleryman in the early 1970s he singlehandedly held off insurgents bent on taking control of a school where children had been stowed for safety. In Morrison's story the details never changed. The number of forces never increased, nor did the number of children saved. When asked about it the General would only reply, "Are people still telling that story?" He neither confirmed nor denied.

There was the story of Captain H.M. Murdock outrunning General Tuco in a dilapidated helicopter "borrowed" from a Mexican sanitarium. As the story goes not only was the pilot able to outrun a military chopper, but performed a perfect barrel roll in defense of a missile launch. It was far fetched and obvious fiction, but it never died. When Colonel Smith or two of his men were asked about it they looked around themselves to see if Sergeant Baracus was within earshot and answered, "We don't like to talk about that." It was an unspoken rule never to bring it up with the Sergeant directly. Rumor has it the oversized man was reduced to a bowl of quivering jello by the maneuver, though in of itself often dismissed as ridiculous.

Then there was Face. He was for the most part a well respected sniper; however, those newly assigned to FOB were a bit circumspect of the stories they heard on that front. It often took some time for them to figure out the accounts were true. However, no one seemed to doubt the handsome Lieutenant was quite the Lothario. Unlike the General's story, Face's bedpost notch count varied widely and grew exponentially with each retelling.

Colonel Smith's little band of merry men seemed to take up more of the rumor mill output than any other group, collectively or individually. Hannibal had heard snippets here and there. Nothing too overt, but steady and seemingly unending. But there came the day Hannibal could no longer keep quiet about the situation.

 

"What the fuck was that?!"

Hannibal felt an unshakable urge to look away. Those bright blue eyes were blazing at him, shooting daggers. With a blink he regained control, but just barely.

"Honestly, Hannibal. What the fuck was that?"

They were back in their shared tent, after Hannibal had gone ballistic on a group of soldiers who had the audacity (more like stupidity) to be ragging about Hannibal's men within his earshot. He had been stewing as they referred to BA as an ignorant oaf. They obviously had not considered the Sergeant was scary intelligent, but a man of few words. Or maybe they had considered it, but were just a bunch of assholes.

Face was sitting beside him at the table, their backs to the group. He laid a hand on Hannibal's arm when he saw the man tense as the conversation moved onto "that lunatic pilot." People talked about his mastery in the air, but these soldiers hadn't witnessed it. Having not seen any demonstrations themselves they considered the tales they had heard to be nothing more than urban legends. They came to the consensus Murdock was nothing but a joke and a likely target for future hazing. Besides all that they had mocked the emotionally unstable man's fragile hold on reality like a bunch of ill mannered twelve-year-olds.

When they got around to Face was when Hannibal had had enough. It was bad enough calling him a pretty boy and falsely denigrating his prowess as a sniper. But he finally snapped when he heard his XO referred to as a whore. That's when all hell broke out with the Colonel grabbing the shirts of two babbling soldiers, one in each hand, who were confused by how fast the man could move. The three others on the opposite side of the table were standing but afraid to leave. They had already made the error of not knowing the Colonel was at the table backing up to their own. They wouldn't compound it by trying to flee.

After Hannibal was through with them, they weren't exactly sure if they were still in the Army or if the legendary Colonel had just given each of them a dishonorable discharge. Dropping the two men back in their chairs he threatened harm if he ever heard so much as a whiff of them disparaging his men again. He collected his then speechless Lieutenant and hustled him to the door.

Back in their tent Face was no longer speechless and was demanding answers from the man half sitting along the edge of his desk.

"I'm sorry Face. There's been too much chatter lately. Then having to listen to those punks. First BA, then Murdock. Then the bullshit about you. I didn't think it was getting to me that badly, but obviously..."

"Yeah! Obviously!" Face ran his hand through his hair. Hannibal could see he was so upset he was just short of panting. "Are you trying to ruin me?"

"No! Of course not! How could you think that?!"

"Pfft. I don't know! Maybe you coming to my rescue like I'm some damsel whose good name has been besmirched? Maybe something like that!"

"Face. I said I was sorry. What more would you like me to do?"

"Why don't you tell me why."

"Why what?"

"Why did you do that?"

"I told you. It was getting to be too much."

"Think I can't take care of myself?"

"No! I've never thought that."

"Then why did you think you had to protect me?!"

"I didn't think I had to. That wasn't it at all."

Face stepped forward, closing the difference between them. Hannibal was still half sitting on the desk giving the younger man a height advantage. He pressed into Hannibal's space, leaned over him, a classic intimidation stance. "Why?!"

"Watch it Face. Let's be honest here. I think you're blowing this out of proportion." Hannibal's jaw was set and quivering.

"Okay. Let's be honest! What have I done to make you think I need your protection? What Hannibal?!"

Hannibal rose to his full height reversing the equation, "I didn't have to protect you. I wanted to protect you." He now pitched his chest forward, stopping only inches from Face. On the balls of his feet hardly touching his heels to the floor he loomed above. It wasn't until he tilted slightly to the side when he saw the wet pools, the welling in Face's eye. He lowered himself and made to step back, but Face's hands slapped his chest before grabbing at Hannibal's shirt.

"Why?" was asked again, quietly now.

"I couldn't handle listening to them talk about you like that."

"Why? I hear it all the time. I'm sure you've heard it too. Why now?" Had his voice slightly faltered?

"Because you mean too much to me to listen to those things being said about you. They were so close to us. It felt like a personal attack. I couldn't just let it go."

It was without deliberate thought Hannibal's hands went to either side of his young Lieutenant's face. He searched for a hint, moving left and right to see different angles. He watched for a clue to his next move. He didn't need to wait long. Face leaned in tight to his shoulder forcing Hannibal to wrap his arms around.

Face was tense in his arms, lightly vibrating. Hannibal raised one hand to thread his finger's through the soft hair, tracking his fingertip up Face's scalp until he could cradle the back of his head in the large paw. Dipping his own head he pressed his temple to the light waves. Taking in then releasing a deep breath he was pleased he was followed. There was a slight tremble at the top of the breath, but the exhale found Face melting to his chest.

"I'm sorry Face. I never meant to..."

"What do want from me, Hannibal?"

The Colonel could think of nothing to say other than the truth, "Whatever you're willing to give me."

"Do you mean that?"

Hannibal leaned back, disentangling himself. He gripped Face by the biceps. The younger man wouldn't meet his eyes. Leaning to the side and ducking on his knees he caught a sideward glance. "When have I ever lied to you?"

Face turned his gaze away, "I don't think you ever have."

"You don't need to think it. I never have. And to be clear the answer to your question is yes, I mean it."

Face's hands had moved up to his Colonel's shoulders. He firmed his grip to pull Hannibal to him. When there was no resistance he sighed and again conformed his chest to fit along Hannibal's planes.

Hannibal held him there as their hearts and breathing synced. Face finally leaned back yet kept contact with their hips. A thought flashed briefly through his mind. He hips cradled perfectly within Hannibal's, as though they were meant to rest there. He looked up to the grey blue eyes. "Can we take the Jeep and go for a ride? We have a lot to talk about."

"Of course."

And with that they separated. Face was ahead, reaching the door first. He stopped and turned back to Hannibal.

"Anything I'm willing to give?"

"I'll take."

Face just barely turned his head to the side and tilted it. He smiled up to Hannibal who felt his knees go a little weak. Stepping again into the older man's space he wrapped a hand around his neck and urged him forward. Their lips met lightly. It was a rather chaste kiss considering the passionate nature of both men and they soon eased apart.

Face was taken aback when he again opened his eyes. There Hannibal stood grinning from ear to ear. Face couldn't help mirroring as he realized he was the one who brought out that smile. Somehow this felt right. A wave washed over him as it came to him this was what he had been searching for.

Grabbing protective gear they stepped out of the tent and walked side by side around back to where BA stowed his motorcycle and a Jeep. For anyone looking on it was a familiar sight. The Colonel and his Lieutenant driving out. It was common for them to venture a ways away from the FOB to discuss their next assignment. The next steps they would be taking.

One would need to look closely to register that along with their vests and helmets they each wore faint smiles.

 

 

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Inspired by a prompt from Indigo

Face is used to people making disparaging comments about his active sex-life and he doesn't let it bother him. But Hannibal goes ballistic when he hears some people describing his Lieutenant as a whore. Hannibal kicks butt (actually or metaphorically) and Face is left aghast, wondering why the boss cares that much...

 

As always, if you liked this work, please let me know with a comment or kudo.


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